LJ Idol Week #9 - Topic: "Normalization"
This is my entry for Week #9 of therealljidol.
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Industry rule #4080
Liz Phair brought her version of her self-titled 2003 album to her label, Capital Records, but they balked at releasing it unless she created some songs with hit-making team The Matrix. Phair recorded four songs with them, had her biggest hit to date, and pretty much ruined her reputation.
Liz Phair (lyrics NSFW) ten year earlier:
The title might be titillating but this is actually a quietly sad song about regret, disappointment and loneliness. Yes, she repeats the R-rated chorus several times, but the really important couplet in this song is "I can feel it in my bones/I'm going to spend my whole life alone." The song is about a unplanned one-night stand, but it isn't a critique of sex - more an acknowledgement that, for the main character, men want her for her body but not for her as a person ("whatever happened to a boyfriend?").
This song is from Phair's first album, Exile in Guyville, which is considered to be an indie masterpiece. Its certainly one of the finest debut albums of the 90's. Described by Phair as a song by song response to the Rolling Stone's Exile on Mainstreet, Guyville's title is Phair's way of addressing the fact that in her music scene, women were rarely allowed to be part of the whole conversation. The "cool" guys would talk with each other about music and women like Phair were kind of expected just to sit off to the side and listen.
Much has been made by critics of the fact that the song doesn't really seem to be, lyrically, a genuine song by song response to the Rolling Stones album. I made a cassette tape in the 90's that alternated songs from Exile on Mainstreet with Exile on Guyville and, after a dozen or so listens, realized that Phair's response is often happening more on a musical level. Its actually much more subtle and inventive than just "the lyrics of this song respond to the lyrics of that one." On the other hand, the human brain - specifically mine - often sees patterns where there are none, so your mileage may vary.
Creating a much-loved debut album is a blessing and a curse. The blessing side is obvious. For example, the success gives your music exposure and means people will be paying more attention. The curse side is, alas, also obvious. The bar has been raised for everything you record after your debut. I've read a thousand musicians say things like "you have your whole life to create your first album and then nine months to create your second." The failure of second albums to live up to the quality of the first is referred to as "the sophomore slump."
As opposed to the "freshman fifteen," which refers to the weight we humans often put on during our first year of college when we start to drink a lot of beer and eat unhealthy food. For some of us, this is referred to as the "freshmen fifty."
In Phair's case, her follow up album was a respectable commercial success, but didn't generate the acclaim of the first album. Her third record was reasonably well received and - this is important - her first that involved Capitol records. Capitol bought a significant stake in her original label (the indie label, Matador) and Phair went over to Capitol completely for her next record. This is when thing went sour.
Record companies, in general, are not focused on nurturing great music. They're focused on shifting units - an industry-speak term for selling records (now, I suppose, selling MP3s). Phair's records had always sold well, but somebody at Capitol must have figured that with her reputation, she should be selling more.
This is where The Matrix production team comes in.
Just to avoid any confusion, "The Matrix" in this context refers to a three member song writing/production team who created hits with Christina Aguilera, Hillary Duff and Britney Spears. No blue or red pills were ingested. Wait, we're talking about musicians. Red pills and blue pills were among the many kinds of pills that were almost certainly ingested.
Phair had her biggest hit with them - "Why Can't I" which peaked at 32 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart (making her, technically, a one-hit wonder). The album Liz Phair also sold reasonably well.
Ok, for something to be a one-hit wonder, it needs to be the artist's only hit on the Billboard Top 40. Thus, if you claim that Flock of Seagulls (who had three top 40 hits) were a one-hit wonder, I will be forced to argue with you and share links. If, on the other hand, you correctly identify the Grateful Dead as a one-hit wonder, I will congratulate you on your excellent reasoning and share with you a mix tape of 40 of their best non-hit songs.
She was then mercilessly savaged by critics and former supporters. Perhaps the most quoted critique of Liz Phair was from Megan O'Rourke of The New York Times who wrote:
It is, Ms. Phair has suggested, her bid for center stage - the moment when she will finally make the leap from indie-rock quasi-stardom to teen-pop levels of superstardom.
Instead, she has committed an embarrassing form of career suicide... the result is that Ms. Phair often sounds desperate or clueless; the album has some of the same weird self-oblivion of a middle-aged man in a mid-life crisis and a new Corvette.
Phair was savaged by the many of the people who once championed her, pilloried for everything from the shallow nature of the songs (deserved, but The Matrix tracks are great ear candy) to her "inappropriate" fashion choices (how dare a middle-aged woman try to dress like a teen pop star!). In trying to make over Liz Phair as a normal pop idol, the geniuses at Capitol records had encouraged her to jettison everything about her that had made her interesting to her fans in the first place. There is even some circumstantial evidence to suggest that she damaged the way people perceived Exile in Guyville.
Let's set aside all of the ludicrous (and sexist) fashion-shaming she received. Phair is no stranger to using irony as an artistic tool and an argument can be made that she dressed in Britney Spears style "sexy schoolgirl" outfits while promoting this album as an ironic gesture. Even if she was being serious, she wanted to get her album heard in a shifting pop landscape and in order to do that, she played the game to promote it. Furthermore, she wanted to get her album released and going full pop with The Matrix was the only way the label was going to do that.
Phair took an audacious risk to try and reach a broader audience. Risks can offer spectacular payoffs but also disastrous failures. The iceberg that sank Phair's ship wasn't the fashion choices or the production team; its that the album didn't have enough praise-worthy content to justify the risk. Had she written and recorded an otherwise brilliant album, I think her critics could have looked past her apparent sell-out. I don't think Phair would have taken this risk if she didn't believe in her own material but the label wasn't interested in if the quality of the songs and lyrics were any good. Evidence suggests that people who buy lots of pop singles don't especially care about those things either most of the time.
How else to explain Sisqo's "Thong Song." No, I am not going to link it. It hurt just to type it.
"Thong th-thong thong thong."
Its in my head now. I want to die.
Entering into a deal with a record company, as musician and producer Steve Albini describes in this great article, can often be a calamitous financial decision for an artist. Executives aren't necessarily qualified to judge artistic quality (quite the opposite, in fact). Their job, obviously, is to make money for the company by selling product not to produce well reviewed albums that don't sell. They didn't ruin Liz Phair out of malice. They ruined her to make money.
Sometimes you go home for a one-night stand with a record company and wake up to discover that they never really cared about the real you after all. Just your body.
Friends, Idol-ers, Country fans, I come here not to bury Liz Phair, but to praise her. After her brief flirtation with being a 30 year-old teen pop star, she has released two more very good albums (which have, sadly, largely been ignored). More importantly, she has gone on to a very successful career writing music for TV shows (she's won two ASCAP awards for her work on 90210 and for Super Fun Night). In the long run, I believe her body of work - particularly Guyville - will ensure that she is remembered as more than just that a one hit wonder.
---
Are their musicians or other artists that you've fallen out of love with once they've changed their sound? Let me know in the comments!
Also, go Team Clueless! Visit my teammates, read their entries and vote for them. It helps us all!
ellison's entry can be found here
I_love_Freddie's entry can be found here
inteus_mika's entry can be found here
sinnamongirl's entry can be found here
---
Industry rule #4080
Liz Phair brought her version of her self-titled 2003 album to her label, Capital Records, but they balked at releasing it unless she created some songs with hit-making team The Matrix. Phair recorded four songs with them, had her biggest hit to date, and pretty much ruined her reputation.
Liz Phair (lyrics NSFW) ten year earlier:
Click to viewThe title might be titillating but this is actually a quietly sad song about regret, disappointment and loneliness. Yes, she repeats the R-rated chorus several times, but the really important couplet in this song is "I can feel it in my bones/I'm going to spend my whole life alone." The song is about a unplanned one-night stand, but it isn't a critique of sex - more an acknowledgement that, for the main character, men want her for her body but not for her as a person ("whatever happened to a boyfriend?").
This song is from Phair's first album, Exile in Guyville, which is considered to be an indie masterpiece. Its certainly one of the finest debut albums of the 90's. Described by Phair as a song by song response to the Rolling Stone's Exile on Mainstreet, Guyville's title is Phair's way of addressing the fact that in her music scene, women were rarely allowed to be part of the whole conversation. The "cool" guys would talk with each other about music and women like Phair were kind of expected just to sit off to the side and listen.
Much has been made by critics of the fact that the song doesn't really seem to be, lyrically, a genuine song by song response to the Rolling Stones album. I made a cassette tape in the 90's that alternated songs from Exile on Mainstreet with Exile on Guyville and, after a dozen or so listens, realized that Phair's response is often happening more on a musical level. Its actually much more subtle and inventive than just "the lyrics of this song respond to the lyrics of that one." On the other hand, the human brain - specifically mine - often sees patterns where there are none, so your mileage may vary.
Creating a much-loved debut album is a blessing and a curse. The blessing side is obvious. For example, the success gives your music exposure and means people will be paying more attention. The curse side is, alas, also obvious. The bar has been raised for everything you record after your debut. I've read a thousand musicians say things like "you have your whole life to create your first album and then nine months to create your second." The failure of second albums to live up to the quality of the first is referred to as "the sophomore slump."
As opposed to the "freshman fifteen," which refers to the weight we humans often put on during our first year of college when we start to drink a lot of beer and eat unhealthy food. For some of us, this is referred to as the "freshmen fifty."
In Phair's case, her follow up album was a respectable commercial success, but didn't generate the acclaim of the first album. Her third record was reasonably well received and - this is important - her first that involved Capitol records. Capitol bought a significant stake in her original label (the indie label, Matador) and Phair went over to Capitol completely for her next record. This is when thing went sour.
Record companies, in general, are not focused on nurturing great music. They're focused on shifting units - an industry-speak term for selling records (now, I suppose, selling MP3s). Phair's records had always sold well, but somebody at Capitol must have figured that with her reputation, she should be selling more.
This is where The Matrix production team comes in.
Just to avoid any confusion, "The Matrix" in this context refers to a three member song writing/production team who created hits with Christina Aguilera, Hillary Duff and Britney Spears. No blue or red pills were ingested. Wait, we're talking about musicians. Red pills and blue pills were among the many kinds of pills that were almost certainly ingested.
Phair had her biggest hit with them - "Why Can't I" which peaked at 32 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart (making her, technically, a one-hit wonder). The album Liz Phair also sold reasonably well.
Ok, for something to be a one-hit wonder, it needs to be the artist's only hit on the Billboard Top 40. Thus, if you claim that Flock of Seagulls (who had three top 40 hits) were a one-hit wonder, I will be forced to argue with you and share links. If, on the other hand, you correctly identify the Grateful Dead as a one-hit wonder, I will congratulate you on your excellent reasoning and share with you a mix tape of 40 of their best non-hit songs.
She was then mercilessly savaged by critics and former supporters. Perhaps the most quoted critique of Liz Phair was from Megan O'Rourke of The New York Times who wrote:
It is, Ms. Phair has suggested, her bid for center stage - the moment when she will finally make the leap from indie-rock quasi-stardom to teen-pop levels of superstardom.
Instead, she has committed an embarrassing form of career suicide... the result is that Ms. Phair often sounds desperate or clueless; the album has some of the same weird self-oblivion of a middle-aged man in a mid-life crisis and a new Corvette.
Phair was savaged by the many of the people who once championed her, pilloried for everything from the shallow nature of the songs (deserved, but The Matrix tracks are great ear candy) to her "inappropriate" fashion choices (how dare a middle-aged woman try to dress like a teen pop star!). In trying to make over Liz Phair as a normal pop idol, the geniuses at Capitol records had encouraged her to jettison everything about her that had made her interesting to her fans in the first place. There is even some circumstantial evidence to suggest that she damaged the way people perceived Exile in Guyville.
Let's set aside all of the ludicrous (and sexist) fashion-shaming she received. Phair is no stranger to using irony as an artistic tool and an argument can be made that she dressed in Britney Spears style "sexy schoolgirl" outfits while promoting this album as an ironic gesture. Even if she was being serious, she wanted to get her album heard in a shifting pop landscape and in order to do that, she played the game to promote it. Furthermore, she wanted to get her album released and going full pop with The Matrix was the only way the label was going to do that.
Phair took an audacious risk to try and reach a broader audience. Risks can offer spectacular payoffs but also disastrous failures. The iceberg that sank Phair's ship wasn't the fashion choices or the production team; its that the album didn't have enough praise-worthy content to justify the risk. Had she written and recorded an otherwise brilliant album, I think her critics could have looked past her apparent sell-out. I don't think Phair would have taken this risk if she didn't believe in her own material but the label wasn't interested in if the quality of the songs and lyrics were any good. Evidence suggests that people who buy lots of pop singles don't especially care about those things either most of the time.
How else to explain Sisqo's "Thong Song." No, I am not going to link it. It hurt just to type it.
"Thong th-thong thong thong."
Its in my head now. I want to die.
Entering into a deal with a record company, as musician and producer Steve Albini describes in this great article, can often be a calamitous financial decision for an artist. Executives aren't necessarily qualified to judge artistic quality (quite the opposite, in fact). Their job, obviously, is to make money for the company by selling product not to produce well reviewed albums that don't sell. They didn't ruin Liz Phair out of malice. They ruined her to make money.
Sometimes you go home for a one-night stand with a record company and wake up to discover that they never really cared about the real you after all. Just your body.
Friends, Idol-ers, Country fans, I come here not to bury Liz Phair, but to praise her. After her brief flirtation with being a 30 year-old teen pop star, she has released two more very good albums (which have, sadly, largely been ignored). More importantly, she has gone on to a very successful career writing music for TV shows (she's won two ASCAP awards for her work on 90210 and for Super Fun Night). In the long run, I believe her body of work - particularly Guyville - will ensure that she is remembered as more than just that a one hit wonder.
---
Are their musicians or other artists that you've fallen out of love with once they've changed their sound? Let me know in the comments!
Also, go Team Clueless! Visit my teammates, read their entries and vote for them. It helps us all!
ellison's entry can be found here
I_love_Freddie's entry can be found here
inteus_mika's entry can be found here
sinnamongirl's entry can be found here